


The Council Chamber

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Sex, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Sansa's betrothal banquet does much for their spirits, but not much for their sobriety or sense of direction. But they make the most of it.</p><p>Another Trials and Tricks one-shot, this one a slightly augmented excerpt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Council Chamber

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, this is another excerpt from my door-stopper-length Trials and Tricks fic, in this case a piece of the tenth chapter: Court, Kin, and Kink. This is rewritten a bit to give it some more girth, humor, and context. I hope you like it.
> 
> Alternate title: Oh, The Places We'll Bone! 
> 
> [Because I am immature. Also because I figured the term "bone" to be too anachronistic.]

The banquet went well into the night, but Jon still felt filled with His Lady Love was emboldened by the positive response their engagement announcement received and several cups of Dornish Red. Every so often, she'd give him a shove for stepping on her red silk hem. Or staring at the teardrop pearl of the brooch pinned between her breasts and the way it swayed back and forth when she moved. Or staring at her breasts in general.

After several minutes, they burst through a door that should have led to the royal wing. Instead, they found themselves in the Small Council Chamber. Sansa burst into hysterical laughter when she saw that, but Jon just grinned like an idiot and leaned close to nip at her neck, and whisper in her ear.

“Hey,” he said, “I wanna… I wanna fuck you on the council table.”

“ _Jon!_ ” She shrieked. “You’re  _drunk!”_

“So? I wanted to fuck you on the council table when I was sober, too. A week ago, when I first managed to ride Rhaegal… I walked in and all I wanted was to fuck you right---” He pointed over at the table, “---Right there. Just lay you on your back and fuck you and then collapse face first between your teats after I come.”

She giggled. “Jon… That’s not proper.”

“Well, I’m a bastard, I don’t have to be proper.”

“You’re not a bastard.”

“I am. I’m the man you love, and you said that the one you love is Jon Snow, the bastard boy with the black curls and the white wolf.”

She cupped his face and smiled. “You remember that?”

“It was you telling me you love me,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest. “Of course I remember.”

Sansa gave this intoxicating little growl and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms about his shoulders. “You can fuck me wherever you like, Jon Snow.”

“Good…” Jon said, carrying her over to the table and plopping her down on it. “Because I want to fuck you here… I want to fuck you in the godswood here and in the one in Winterfell, and in the glass gardens, and in the springs.”

He started removing his clothes. “And I want to fuck you at Dragonstone. And at the Wall. And at Riverrun. And at Harrenhal.”

She laughed, reaching behind her back to unhook her belt and loosen the laces on her gown. “Alright, well I’d like to fuck you at The Eyrie and at the Gates of the Moon. And in the chambers at Winterfell where my mother’s used to be. And I’d like to fuck you at Castle Black. And wherever you lost your virginity.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Good luck. I first fucked a girl in the middle of the lands beyond the Wall, at Mance Rayder’s camp.”

“Alright, but I want to fuck you on top of the Wall.” He laughed and yanked off his shirts. He went to remove the circlet, but she stopped him.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing it.”

Jon normally hated his damn circlet. It was a stupid bauble of woven bands of silver studded with onyx that normally made him feel like he was in a mummer's farce. Mostly because he so rarely felt like a proper prince. But now, seeing his flushed, exquisite bride-to-be with that lewd glint in her eye as she removed her clothes, he felt more like one than ever. This bold request of hers--- no, not a request, a declaration--- gave him a new appreciation for the hunk of metal atop his head. Sure, if he had to have something wrapped around his head, he'd prefer his lady's legs, but exciting a certain unexplored lust in her by donning the trinket definitely had an appeal. An appeal that made him really, really hate his trousers.

She pulled off her gown, he unlaced his breeches, tore off her shift and her girdle. He suckled at her bare teats, nipping at them, kissing them, rubbing his face in them.

“I want to fuck you on a ship sailing across the Narrow Sea,” he babbled, “I want to fuck you in all of the Free Cities, and in a tent traveling with Daenerys’s khalasaar, and at Vaes Dothrak. And in all of the cities of Slaver’s Bay.”

He reached down, tore off her smallclothes and stroked at her folds. She was already wet. Jon grinned.

Sansa was panting, rutting against his hand, her voice almost weak from arousal. “I want to fuck you in Dorne… In the pools of the Water Gardens, at Sunspear, in the ruins of Summerhall.”

He groaned. They said that Prince Rhaegar used to travel to Summerhall and sleep beneath the stars. He wondered vaguely if his father ever brought his mother there, if they made love and then fell asleep with one another under the stars. Doing such a thing with Sansa seemed a beautiful image.  _I could have been conceived there. I could put a babe in Sansa there. We could have a boy and call him Rhaegar, or a girl and call her Lyanna._

Jon entered her, reveling in her hot, white heat. She moaned and tossed her head back.

He leaned over her and whispered, “I could fuck you anywhere, and I’d like to do it everywhere. As long as I’m inside you, I’m in paradise.”

They came together. As promised, Jon fell face first between her teats. She stroked his head. After a few minutes, she spoke.

“Jon, I know you’d like to fuck me anywhere, but I think it’s best if we still slept in our beds. I’m going to be in pain tomorrow if we stay here, to say nothing of the embarrassment.” 


End file.
